


The Shape of the Future

by Arisprite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Arguing, Canon Compliant, Continuing the 'Let's end this' conversation, Crying, Hurt, M/M, Missing Scene, POV Victor, Spoilers, episode 12, pretty angsty, veery slight suggestion of worry about non con (NO actual non con!), wrong conclusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: “Was any of it real?” Victor asked, and Victor’s heart pounded as it always did when he brought up their unspoken relationship, whatever it was, and spoke outside of Yuuri’s metaphor. Yuuri was gaping at him, like he couldn’t understand what Victor was even asking. “Are these” and Victor grabbed Yuuri’s right hand with his own, clinking the rings he’d been so happy about together, “real at all to you?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to extend the scene at the beginning of Episode 12. Spoilers! 
> 
> It definitely was a shame that the time constraint of the episode cut out the rest of that scene. The sum up worked, but I was dying to know what was said, and how they came to the conclusion. Also, I wanted Victor to cry some more. Sorry dear! And I really just wanted to follow what I imagined the thought process Victor takes, in order to reach the conclusion that he's going to decide after the results, and that he changed Yuuri's set mindset from definitely retiring to deciding after as well. I tried to stay in character, but of course that is always up to interpretation. I hope some of you enjoy!
> 
> I may add a second part with Yuuri's POV, because I'm curious what he's thinking too.
> 
> Scroll to the end notes for the explanation of the slight non con warning.

Victor couldn’t deny the flutter of nerves, quickly pressed down, when Yuuri asked to talk with him. What was that phrase that had such a bad reputation in English? ‘We need to talk’. Yuuri hadn’t said that exactly, just quickly murmured that he wanted to speak to him as Victor was closing the bathroom door to take a shower. 

“Do you want me to wait?” Victor asked, hand on the doorknob, and towel in his hand, but Yuuri waved him off, settling on the pushed-together beds with his phone, telling him to take his time. Victor spent the shower pondering, wondering what Yuuri wanted to talk about. Surely it was something to do with their engagement (and a part him _melted_ that he was able to say that, after all it had only been a day!). Maybe he had ideas about the wedding? Or it could be something about the Free Skate, that was more likely. Still, Victor was almost humming as he toweled off, wrapping up warmly in the provided bathrobe, and rubbing at the unfamiliar way that water gathered under his gold ring. 

Yuuri was still on the bed, looking at his phone. It was a common sight, but Victor noticed that he hadn’t changed out of the short program outfit, even though he was usually careful with the delicate material. A frisson of the unease returned, before Victor pushed it away again. 

Victor smiled, and sat over in Yuuri’s line of sight, his back to the window and hair still dripping on his towel. Yuuri didn’t look up but murmured something about Minako, and what their friends were doing. 

“Wow. Better keep our distance then,” Victor said, amusement fighting his growing confusion. He decided to ask, because it didn’t appear that Yuuri would be bringing it up on his own. Still, there was a hesitation in his voice that he didn’t often experience. “So, Yuuri… what did you want to talk about?”

Yuuri straightened, looking strangely calm which put an ease back into Victor’s stomach. Then, he tightened his grip on his phone, and looked at Victor with a small smile. 

“Right.” He breathed in and out, utterly sure of himself, and Victor wondered what he’d surprise him with. “After the final, let’s end this.” 

Victor stared at him. 

“Huh?” 

His happy curiosity froze, his calm shattered and suddenly it was all Victor could do think. What? End this? He felt cold and shaky as shock rushed through him quicker than coherent thought in any language. It took a moment to even register that Yuuri was still speaking, spouting English words as if he could explain any better.

“You’ve done more than enough for me, Victor,” he was saying. “Thanks to you, I was able to give everything I had to my last season.”

He bowed, and Victor couldn’t breathe, still frozen and he had a sudden inane thought that he wished he wasn’t in a robe and slippers. How could Yuuri be breaking up with him now, when he couldn’t even run out of the hotel room without a charge of public indecency? 

Oh god, Yuuri was breaking up with him. Yesterday, he’d put a ring on that man’s finger, and now-” 

Victor’s chest was stuck. Yuuri was bowing to him in the most polite goodbye.

Victor dropped his eyes from the top of Yuuri’s head to a blurry middle distance. It was blurry because, _oh_ , he was crying. Victor didn’t fight it, just let the tears overflow, past his uneven breathing, dripping down on his lap, and hitting his bare ankles. 

“Thank you for everything, Victor. Thank you for being my coach.”

And suddenly, Victor was breathtakingly _angry_. Had Yuuri just been playing along, all to use Victor infatuation and experience just to get ahead, and raise himself out of his slump? After all, it was helping him, that much was obvious. Yuuri was here, at the Grand Prix, just like he wanted. And now that he’d gotten what he’d wanted, was he just going to drop Victor, even though they’d promised- 

“Damn,” he swore, trying to find the words in English to let Yuuri know how stunningly terrible this was, that he’d string Victor along like this, that he’d give him up now. Some part of him was sure that Yuuri’s feelings were as genuine as his, but even so. “I didn’t expect Katsuki Yuri to be such a selfish human being.” 

Yuuri didn’t flinch, and he was still so, so damnably calm. “Right. I made this selfish decision on my own.” 

Victor dropped his eyes as Yuuri spoke. Tears were still flowing, and Victor didn’t know if he’d be able to breathe for much longer. 

“I’m retiring.” 

There was a pause in Victor’s mind, where he reframed their whole conversation up to that point. It was distressing how often he had to do this with Yuuri, that he’d blink and come to find that they’d been having two conversations. 

Is _that_ what they’d been talking about? _Skating?_

Victor huffed, though it wasn’t funny at all. Victor’s fear twisted stomach settled a bit, but his anger was still biting behind his teeth, pushing tears out of his eyes. He’d always been an angry crier. If he wasn’t so livid, he’d have been embarrassed. 

Then, Yuuri’s fingers were in his hair, and Victor stiffened, his jaw tight. 

“Yuuri, what are you doing?” he asked, voice low. It wasn’t a caress, like Victor might have done - had done - when Yuuri cried. It was a curious poke, like he’d found so endearing before. Just clearing his fringe so Yuuri could see his eyes. Unlike that tender touch to the top of his (thinning!) hair, now, Victor just felt exposed. 

“Oh, I’m just surprised to see you cry,” Yuuri said, mild wonder in his tone. Victor was too upset to hear if there was any concern at all. He smacked Yuuri’s hand away, the first time he’d ever raised a hand to Yuuri in anger. 

“I’m mad, okay?” Victor snapped, still, dammit, crying. Yuuri looked startled, shocked, like what was in front of him was finally sinking in. Well, about time, he’d only been crying for a full minute or more. 

“You’re the one who said it was only until the Grand Prix Final!” Yuuri protested, and Victor still didn’t know if they were only talking about their coaching relationship, or if they were talking about the reason he was wearing a goddamned ring on his finger! 

“I thought you needed my help more than that,” Victor said. _I thought you needed me more_. 

“Aren’t you going to make a comeback?” and Victor felt a rush of bitter realization. Was that where this was coming from? Did Yuuri somehow sense his thoughts earlier, that longing he’d felt that day, watching the other skaters... Dammit, why was Yuuri so good at reading him only when the thoughts would hurt him?

Victor knew that during the Men’s Short Program, he’d watched Yurio and the others take to the ice with sharp pain in his chest. He’d _wanted_ to be out there, doing it too. Yuri had taken his record, and yes he was proud, but he was also _hurt_ that it had been so easy for him (though he knew that Yuri had fought so so hard). Victor had made that record years ago, and hadn’t passed it again. Yuri was fifteen, he had so far he could go, and it incited a terrible and wonderful mix of emotions. Victor didn’t want to let him beat him. Victor wanted to cheer him on. Victor wanted to come back and retake the record, while his knees and hips still might let him. 

And it had been _fun_ to watch them all. Fun to see their skills, and the results of all their hard work. He’d felt the enjoyment of the sport again, like he had watching the Olympics as a child. Victor had felt, at last, that love of skating again, as he hadn’t in so long, save watching Yuuri. 

But that Yuuri had heard his thoughts, and turned it into this terrible confrontation… Victor had made a promise to stay by his side. He’d confirmed it with a ring and an engagement, or he’d thought he had. He thought they understood one another. Victor had thought that his decision was clear. He chose Yuuri over the possibility of skating again. Yuuri was worth it, even if he wanted to take to the ice so badly. He loved Yuuri, he did. Victor had never said the words, but hadn’t his lips, his body spoken for him? Why wasn’t it enough?

And now Yuuri wanted to retire, after all the work they’d done. After how far Yuuri had come, peeling back the layers of his nerves and anxiety until the whole world surely saw the amazing skater, and man that Yuuri Katsuki was. And he recalled that reporter in Moscow, who’d asked if he would like to compete against the skater Yuuri had become, and Victor realized that the longing to skate had only come when Yuuri had made the sport interesting again. How could he now say he was giving up?

Yuuri was still talking, small on the edge of the bed. 

“You don’t have to worry about me-” 

“How can you tell me to return to the ice while saying you’re retiring?!” Victor snapped, tears still falling, voice shaking. He leaned forward and grabbed Yuuri’s shoulder. “How can you say you’re giving up, and want me to go on alone?” 

Yuuri was shaken, leaning back. “I-it’s what you want, Victor-” 

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Victor snapped, but then, finally, the tears took a stronger hold and what had just been flowing drops became a tight throat and trembling lips. He wanted to finish. _**You’re** what I want, please don’t leave me, don’t make me go_. But, Yuuri had never said as much, had he? Even while they were kissing or having sex or exchanging _rings_ , Yuuri had only ever talked about skating. Victor, damn him, had thought it was a metaphor, a euphemism for something that Yuuri’s anxiety wouldn’t allow him to talk about, but what if it _wasn’t_?

What if Yuuri didn’t mean it, what if he’d just been going along with Victor, letting him take advantage of him, all under some twisted idea that it was a coaching technique to make him win gold, and that it would be over once he stood on the podium. That it was only Victor’s desires that mattered, and Yuuri was just letting it all happen? Even the marriage promise had only ever been Victor’s words. 

Would Yuuri have gotten married to him only because it was what Victor wanted? 

Victor couldn’t get the words out, his tears overtaking him. A shaking was emanating from his chest, where his very heart throbbed, and rising up his throat like bile, only to clamp his shivering lips closed, and stutter his breath. He choked, and spun away, _embarrassed_ , hurt, and so damn confused, hand covering his mouth. 

“V-Victor?” Yuuri was still sitting there, staring at him, the beginnings of fear and sympathy in his eyes. Because Yuuri was kind, and Victor was breaking down right in front of him. Was it real, or would Yuuri look the same if it were anyone standing here? “Victor, please, y-you need to breathe,” Yuuri said in a small voice. 

Tentative fingers brushed his elbow, and Victor, damn him, just wanted to whirl around and bury his face into Yuuri’s shoulder. Even though he was the one who made him cry! Instead, Victor tried to wipe his face. 

“So you’ve... made your decision then?” Victor asked, voice trembling. 

“Haven’t you?” 

“No!” Victor snapped, whirling and rubbing at his face, and just wishing he could stop crying. This was why he tried not to start. “I-” well, because the fact of the matter was, there was a part of him that wanted to consider it. Consider returning before it was too late, and he wouldn’t be able to keep up. Yuuri saw his hesitation. 

“You do want to go back,” he said, and Victor waved his arm. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth! I’m your coach!” And more, he’d thought. “It’s only the beginning of the season, you can’t-” 

Yuuri was watching him, panic and confusion warring on his face. Well, he could join the club, because Victor had no idea why they were having this argument. 

“I always planned to retire after the Grand Prix,” he said, and Victor gasped, like Yuuri had punched him in the stomach, rather than just spoken. Like there wasn’t enough air in the room. 

“Always,” he said, and Yuuri plunged on. 

“It was always only going to be for this year. I _knew_ my time with you was limited, so I wanted to, to-” 

And Victor darkly finished his sentence. “To make the most of it… by seducing me, body, heart, and soul, all for my skating skills.” 

“No,” Yuuri gasped. 

“Was any of it real?” he asked, and Victor’s heart pounded as it always did when he brought up their unspoken relationship, whatever it was, and spoke outside of Yuuri’s metaphor. Yuuri was gaping at him, like he couldn’t understand what Victor was even asking. “Are _these_ ” and he grabbed Yuuri’s right hand with his own, clinking the rings he’d been so happy about together. “real at all to you?” 

There was a long pause, and Victor felt his shattered heart begin to grind into dust, until Yuuri’s fingers tightened. 

“Yes,” he murmured. “They were. Are. But, it isn’t about them. It isn’t about us. I can’t take you from the world of skating, I can’t be responsible for holding you back like that.” 

“You’re not hold-” Victor interrupted, almost breathless at the reversal of a broken heart, so abruptly it felt like his chest was going to burst. If the rings were real, then… 

“Victor,” Yuuri interrupted. “I just want you to be happy.” 

“I _am_ happy,” Victor said, aware that tears and likely mucus was all dripped down his face by now, and there was undeniable irony in that sentence. “Yuuri, I’m happy with _you_.” 

“But it’s not enough, is it? I saw you today, you wanted to be out there, and I can’t be the one that took you away from it.” 

Victor knew this conversation was going around in circles, but he didn’t know how to stop it. He reached forward, grasping at both Yuuri’s hands, and holding them with a panic-ridden strength. 

“But it’s _my_ choice, Yuuri! I made the choice to go to Japan! I made the choice to coach you! And I will make the choice whether or not to go back, you don’t get to choose it for me, okay!” 

Yuuri nodded, suddenly far too calm. “That’s all I’m asking, is for you to make the choice, for yourself and no one else.” 

Victor tightened his grip, until he was almost sure he’d bruise Yuuri’s knuckles. 

“Then, you make a promise to me too. Promise that you will hold off on making your choice. We’ll both decide, separately and for ourselves, what to do with the future, after the finals are finished. No matter the result, we decide then, and not before.” 

Yuuri nodded, looking satisfied, like he’d gotten what he wanted. Victor looked at him, and then down at his right hand, where his ring sat. Then, he released Yuuri’s hands, and stepped back, deliberately putting some space between them. It was late, and he was exhausted, but the space in bed beside Yuuri had never looked so cold. He was still teary, so he wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe, likely irritating his eyes even more. Victor had no words to say. 

“I should go to sleep,” Yuuri said, quietly, and Victor nodded shakily. 

“I’ll let you get some rest,” he whispered, voice raw, before he scooped up his clothes from earlier, just the pants and the button down, and tugged them on. Then, he slid on his shoes without socks, and left without looking back. 

Victor wished he’d grabbed some tissues, or had stopped to wash his face before he left the hotel room, because he was still crying a little, but the need to be out of there, to be away from Yuuri and his promises was too great. Instead, Victor slunk down the hall, and found a semi-hidden corner before he sank down to scrub his face with his sleeve. A few more stubborn tears fell, staining the silk, before finally they stopped, leaving him with a roaring headache, and swollen eyes. He’d have to steal some of Yuuri’s concealer for the performance to cover the evidence tomorrow, and that was only if he got some sleep to assuage the effect of crying his eyes out for the better part of a half hour. 

Victor sighed. What was he going to do with that man? Yuuri was magnificent, and wonderful, and had lit up his life in so many ways. That hadn’t changed. But they didn’t communicate well, he knew that. It was always going to be a challenge with neither of them speaking in their native language. Concepts got missed, and conversations had two meanings - as was evidenced tonight. And Yuuri took all things at his own pace, and Victor was fine with that, he was. But, obviously something had gone wrong. Victor had been over the moon about the band on his finger, and had missed what Yuuri was truly thinking. 

Out of the heat of the moment, Victor knew that Yuuri felt the same as he did. There were too many moments where they were perfectly in sync, when Yuuri’s eyes were blown with desire and joy, and his face reflected exactly what Victor felt. It couldn’t have been an act, save for the act Yuuri’s anxieties took on to convince him that a good thing sticking around was impossible, and that Victor would never want to stay. He did want to, but it wasn’t just a matter of convincing Yuuri… he also had to decide if skating competitively was a door closed for good. 

He wanted Yuuri; as a lover, a friend, a boyfriend, a _husband_. He wanted Yuuri as a student, a successor to his name. He wanted Yuuri as a competitor, to fight to stand beside him on the podium. He just _wanted_ Yuuri, plain and simple. Did he have to decide? Victor groaned, putting his face into his hands. The fact of the matter was that he did, and soon. By tomorrow. By the time Yuuri’s skate passed, and the gold went to whomever it went, he’d know the shape of his future. And, he’d know Yuuri’s future too. Letting out a breath, Victor lifted his face skyward.

_Just, please, God. Let me be a part of it._

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Victor worries that Yuuri wasn't sincere in their relationship, and was only going along with what Victor wanted, including a physical relationship, in order to keep him there as a coach. He worries that he was taking advantage of Yuuri. Then, later, in anger, Victor feels that Yuuri has deceived him and seduced him under those same false pretenses. Obviously, neither is true, and Victor knows that.


End file.
